Tell My Brother
by kaly
Summary: This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Gen. Oneshot.


Title: Tell My Brother   
Author: kaly   
Category: Gen; angst; character death   
Rating: K+  
Spoilers: none   
Summary: This wasn't how it was supposed to end. 

Notes: Once again, my hugest of thanks to geminigrl11 for the beta - any remaining goofs are mine.

Disclaimer: Not mine. The pretty, snarky, angsty brothers belong to the WB & CW.

Tell My Brother

It came out of nowhere. One minute Sam was sweeping through the house - Dean a step in front of him - the next the creature they were hunting appeared, little more than teeth and claws.

"Dean! Down!"

Sam lunged forward, grabbing Dean around the waist, dropping both of them to the floor. He had barely heard Dean's startled cry when Sam felt the blazing burn of claws piercing through his chest.

Just as suddenly, everything went black.

* * *

"What the...?" Dean asked, pushing against Sam, trying to get out from under him and off the floor. He hadn't quite managed it when he heard the creature growl, the noise was so loud it practically rattled the windowpanes. Without thought, he raised his gun and fired. The gunshot echoed in the rotting house and the creature thudded onto the floor, unmoving. 

Breathing heavy, Dean turned, his legs still tangled with Sam's. "Sam..." His voice died in his throat when he saw Sam lying beside him, bleeding heavily on the dank floor.

Moving quickly, Dean twisted his way free and knelt beside his brother. "Sam?" His voice was barely a whisper. He reached out his hands but pulled them back at the last second, uncertain of where he could touch without causing pain.

"Talk to me, damn it," he insisted a moment later, fear making his voice hard. When there was still no reply, he grasped Sam's shoulders gingerly and moved him so that he could see his face. Sam was pale - deathly so - and blood covered his lips.

Ever so carefully, he lifted Sam from the floor and pulled him onto his lap. Once he was situated, Dean pulled off his jacket and shirt and then pressed his shirt against the wound in Sam's chest.

Sam gasped suddenly - a breath so deep his chest heaved with the effort - and bucked in Dean's arms, fighting his grip. "Shh, shh," Dean said, trying to calm Sam before he injured himself worse. "Just stay still."

"Dean?" Sam asked and Dean shivered at how weak his voice sounded.

"Yeah, I'm here."

Sam whimpered and struggled feebly; unable to escape the pressure Dean was applying. "Don't feel so good."

A fissure of fear cut through Dean and he shook his head roughly. "Just stay still, I'm gonna call for help. You're gonna be fine."

He felt Sam's hair tickle his arm as Sam shook his head, barely moving it from side to side. "Don't think so." There was a gurgling sound and more blood spilled from Sam's mouth, onto his chin.

"Hey, none of that." Risking letting go of the meager bandage, Dean fumbled around in his coat pocket trying to find his cell phone. "We're out quite a ways but they should be able to get an ambulance here quick enough."

He'd just dialed 911 and pressed send when he felt Sam's pat his arm. "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?" he asked, cursing mentally as he listened to the phone ring.

Sam coughed weakly and more blood bubbled forth. "I'm sorry." It was spoken so quietly Dean almost didn't make out the words.

Before he could reply, a voice answered his call. "911. What is your emergency?"

"My brother's been stabbed. We need an ambulance." He continued, rattling off the directions to the deserted house they were in, but his gaze never left Sam, whose eyes were drooping closed.

"Stay awake," Dean commanded as he snapped the phone shut.

Sam took a stuttered breath, dragging his eyes open. "Can't, man."

Reapplying the pressure to Sam's chest, Dean coughed against the tightening in his own chest. "Don't talk like that. You're going to be fine, damn it."

"Not this time. Dean..."

"Shut up, Sammy."

"Dean, listen..." Sam started, the words ending in a gasp of pain.

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, rocking them both back and forth slightly. "No."

Sam tilted his head to the side slightly, so that he was staring into Dean's eyes. The sight of tears filling Sam's twisted Dean's stomach and made him hold on more tightly. "Please?"

Unable to look away - unable to blink - Dean shook his head once. In a wobbly voice, he replied, "I can't."

"Too bad," Sam said, a sad smile tilting the corner of his mouth. "Gonna make you," he added several moments later.

Biting his lip, Dean continued to shake his head. "No."

"End of the line, dude," Sam said around shallow, gasping breaths. "I'm sorry."

"Just hold on till the ambulance gets here, okay?" When Sam's eyes began to close again, Dean gave him a rough shake. He could only hope the positives of keeping Sam awake outweighed the risks of moving him. "Don't go to sleep!" That Sam might never wake again was barely worth a thought - much less speaking aloud.

"I'm glad," Sam said, struggling to keep his eyes open. He stared, unblinkingly, at Dean. "I'm glad you found me."

"What?" Dean asked, confusion muddying the fear. "What are you talking about?"

Sam smiled then, making Dean's blood run cold even as Sam's blood warmed his chest. "I'm glad we were together, for a while. I missed you."

"We are _not _having this conversation, Sammy." Emotions long buried - barely acknowledged - crashed over him and Dean shuddered. "Please don't. No chick flick moments, remember?"

Sam tried to laugh but instead ended up wincing in pain. "Not sure we can avoid this one."

"Watch me."

Sam's lips quirked at those familiar words but there was a long pause. Sam blinked slowly, breathing even more slowly. Dean tried to ignore how his lips, where they weren't marred with blood, were turning blue.

"Thanks, man," Sam said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Trying to laugh but failing miserably, Dean replied, "We've already had this conversation, dude. Few years ago in Iowa, as I recall. I didn't want to have it then either."

Sam smiled fondly. Dean had to lean forward to hear him say, "I know."

"So then we don't need to have it now."

Denial was the only thing he could accept. His baby brother was _not _going to die. Much less in a run-down, abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, victim to a nothing hunt. They'd beaten the demon that had wrecked their lives; an overgrown dog wasn't going to take one of them out. Besides, he was supposed to die for Sam, not the other way around.

Looking skyward, Dean took a nervous breath. "Good, now that it's settled, let's focus on you staying awake."

"I love you."

Dean choked, nearly biting his tongue.

"I know we don't say it. I know you probably don't want to hear it. But, Dean..."

The room was spinning; Dean couldn't breathe and could see nothing beyond Sam in his arms. "I know," he whispered several seconds later. Sam's eyes lit up at his words and Dean felt something inside himself break in two.

"I'm glad."

Curing into himself, Dean rested his forehead on the top of Sam's head. Sam's curls - which Dean so often wished he would cut - were soft, comforting. In that moment Dean was reminded of when they were little and they were forever in Sam's eyes.

Shivers began wracking Sam's frame and Dean held on more tightly. Straining his ears, he prayed for the sound of a siren - praying for a miracle. He hadn't prayed since Nebraska, since Layla. He'd never figured out if there was a right way or a wrong way or if he was screwing it all up completely. He figured that he probably was but for Sam, there wasn't much he wouldn't try.

But only silence answered him.

"Dean?" Sam asked, a moment later.

Straightening, Dean brushed Sam's hair out of his eyes like he had so often when they were boys. "Yeah, Sammy?"

"I'll miss you."

Choking back the sob that tried to break free, Dean clenched his eyes shut to deny the tears that burned them. "Sammy..."

"But at least..." He took a stuttering breath. "I got to say good-bye, this time."

"I won't say it," Dean said angrily. He wouldn't say good-bye and then Sam couldn't leave, wouldn't leave until Dean said it back. "You're not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever." His voice broke when he added, "Not because of me."

"Wouldn't change... a thing... You're safe."

A single tear broke free, falling from Dean's chin to land on Sam's cheek. "What good is that if you're not?"

"Everything."

"No. No, damn it."

Sam's eyes closed, and even when Dean shook his shoulders they didn't open. There was a hitching sound in his chest, a sudden gasp and then nothing.

"Sammy?"

The silence was deafening.

A sob broke free and Dean shook Sam's shoulders once more. "Wake up, Sammy. Please..."

But there was no answer.

The sounds of sirens echoed in the distance - too little, too late. Dean pulled Sam even closer until he was resting across his lap. Pressing his face into the crook of Sam's neck, he began rocking them back and forth. Tears scorched his face, soaking the fabric of Sam's shirt.

He could hear the ambulance arriving, the noises of the paramedics rushing toward the house. Dean ignored them, ignored everything but the body in his arms. There was nothing else - no sound, no texture - an aching, empty void. There was nothing but him and Sam. As it had always been.

Struggling to breathe for his tears, Dean whispered, "I love you, little brother."

He could only hope that Sam heard him.

fin


End file.
